


Into The Sun

by seki



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3435404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seki/pseuds/seki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love isn't always enough on its own, no matter how inventive you are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, warnings: this fic contains asphyxiation, burning/branding, sex in public places.

"Kiss me, then."

Yagyuu hauls Niou's holdall onto his shoulder, and leans across for a brief kiss. It's not especially passionate, just a press of mouth against mouth, enough to show willing. They _are_ in public, and while the arrivals area is full of reunited couples embracing, Yagyuu's never been very good at being demonstrative in front of other people. 

Niou seems content with it, at least. They talk a little, aimlessly, as they wind their way through the airport; the flight was full of noisy children but Niou managed to sleep for a few hours anyway. Yagyuu's not surprised; Niou has a catlike ability to curl up and sleep through noise and discomfort that Yagyuu's always envied.

It isn't until they're on the train that Niou, after a long lull of companionable silence, clears his throat.

"Single again, then?"

Yagyuu shrugs. It wouldn't matter either way, and Niou knows that. Right now Yagyuu really _is_ single, as it happens. His last relationship had been with someone who was in Japan on a work visa, there to set up an office for her company before moving on to another country. It had been novel to play tour guide at the same time as lover, to take her on trips to places he normally ignored with the contempt of long familiarity. He'd liked her enough to be a little sad about kissing her goodbye for the last time. Fond memories, but no regrets.

If Yagyuu has a weakness, it's people who walk out of his life before they've outstayed their welcome.

And then there's Niou.

Niou stretches, and tilts his seat back a little. He's been staring out of the window ever since the train got above ground, his eyes roaming restlessly over the buildings and trees. Yagyuu wonders if it looks alien to Niou at this point, if he's now fully adjusted to seeing foreign words and brands and architecture. Or maybe it looks like home. Yagyuu can't tell.

"My flight home is in two weeks," Niou says, ostensibly to the window, after a while.

"That long?"

"My mother insisted." Niou glances over at Yagyuu for a moment before returning to studying the passing landscape. "Apparently shorter visits are a waste of airfare."

Yagyuu nods, though it's not something he's really ever worried over. Niou comes and goes, and Yagyuu sets aside large parts of his own life to make the most of what time there is, and then picks up the threads again when Niou leaves. Two weeks is a long visit, but then It's been almost a year since the last time Niou set foot in Japan.

"Which hotel are you booked into?"

"Oh, I forget. It's out in Odaiba somewhere." Niou pulls a face. "Nonrefundable deposit but it was cheap and probably doesn't have rats."

"Are you going to check in?"

"I dunno. Maybe."

Yagyuu thinks, if he were more romantic, that this is where he'd take Niou's hand and tell him not to be so ridiculous. Niou's going to be sleeping at Yagyuu's apartment. They both know that. Still, Yagyuu suspects Niou would feel more comfortable having a bolthole, just in case.

"If you're okay with me crashing for the night, I could call up and ask to check in tomorrow instead, I suppose."

"Of course."

\--

Niou kisses him, once they're back at Yagyuu's flat, before Yagyuu's even really had time to take a breath and appreciate having Niou back in his life.

He's missed Niou, has missed his scent and his skin and his mouth and his hands. It helps, and Niou's eager too. The first time after a long time apart is always simple, comparatively.

They shower together, afterwards. It's an intimacy Yagyuu tends to avoid with lovers, even men. Mixing sex with hygiene always makes him uncomfortable, and only Niou has ever really seemed to accept that unquestioningly. Niou does kiss Yagyuu's shoulderblade, absentmindedly, after washing Yagyuu's back for him, but it's affectionate and not _pushing_ , and Yagyuu doesn't even flinch.

Over dinner they talk about schedules and plans. Yagyuu has work the next day, because -- as he expected -- Niou will spend that with his parents, but over the next two weeks they do have several entire days that they can spend together. Niou wants to go the seaside while he's in Japan, and maybe also to a nice onsen somewhere, and there are other people he'll want to see.

For now, things are simple, and all they need is each other.

\--

The wind blows in sharp and cold off the Pacific, but Niou doesn't seem to mind. He leans out over the barrier, grinning into the spray as the sea crashes onto the rocks below.

"You know, it doesn't smell the same from the other side," he said, as he turns to sit on the metal bar, his feet hooked behind the lower bar for balance. "Funny the things you notice."

"Different climates," Yagyuu points out. "Different sorts of pollution."

Niou wrinkles his nose at him. This particular stretch of seafront is more road than town; the cliffs loom up to their left and it's a few minute's walk back to what passes for civilisation around here. This part of the coast has a bleak sort of beauty right now, the shrubs and trees just barely starting to come into leaf and the barren branches taking on a hint of green. The air smells of clean salt, with that kind of coldness that leaves the inside of the nose feeling almost painful, and Yagyuu pulls his scarf up higher around his ears resignedly.

Niou stretches his arms out, and leans back out over the sea, with his eyes closed and a blissful expression on his face.

Later, they climb down onto the tiny beach that's tucked in right at the base of the cliff. From here, the rocks against the sea wall obscure the view of the town, and it's almost as if the only people in the world are the two of them on their tiny patch of grey sand.

Niou's hands make Yagyuu wince as they slide under his clothes, but this, being here like this, is a thing he can give Niou that isn't too complicated. It's isolated enough here that he's even a little noisy as Niou touches him, just for the way it makes Niou grin and shudder in response. They kiss, a raw slide of open mouth against mouth, and then Niou shoves Yagyuu back against the wall and moves his hands down.

They jerk each other off, there against the wall, unhurried despite the cold and the tide that is, Yagyuu vaguely registers in the back of his head, creeping back up the beach towards them. Niou orgasms, after a while, pulsing stickily all over Yagyuu's hand, and then he sinks to his knees to finish Yagyuu off with his mouth. The sea is dangerously close by the time Yagyuu finally manages to come, and Niou's visibly half-hard again by that point.

"Mm," Niou says, practically crawling back up Yagyuu's body as he levers himself back to his feet. "If I thought I had it in me, I'd fuck you right here."

Yagyuu turns his head to one side, away from Niou's mouth; Niou hasn't even wiped his chin yet, and it glistens damply. Yagyuu doesn't mind kissing someone who's gone down on him, but there are limits. "Maybe later."

"It's not the same," Niou murmurs, and Yagyuu's gut tightens at the truth of _that_ little admission. "Alright, let's go back to somewhere a little warmer so you don't bitch me out about hypothermia."

Yagyuu does his best to rinse his hands in the sea water, his shoes sinking alarmingly in the wet sand. After a moment's contemplation, he crouches and splashes some shrivellingly icy water over his cock too; he'd rather be cold than sticky, on the whole.

They climb back up the wall at the edge of the cliff, where there's a little muddy indentation that implies that others have used this route before. Niou's knees are covered in dry grains of sand, and Yagyuu's shoes in muddy wet sand, and Yagyuu's as certain as he always is that anyone who sees them will just know they've been publicly obscene.

\--

It takes another day before Niou's _problem_ becomes Yagyuu's problem, as it always does. At least by now Yagyuu knows what it'll take to press through; he shoves Niou hard face-first into the pillows and holds him down suffocatingly until Niou spills out into Yagyuu's hand, and then lets Niou gasp for air for a moment before resuming the pursuit of his _own_ orgasm. He lets his irritation spill over into the sex, keeping Niou bent into what must be an uncomfortable position as he thrusts in with brutal force.

"You can be rougher," Niou says, afterwards, idly. "If you want."

It's not enough. It's never enough, thinks Yagyuu, he's never enough.

\--

Niou's standing by the window, in a dress, when Yagyuu gets home.

Yagyuu takes his coat off, slowly, assessing. The dress is white, clingy at the neck, and flares out around the waist in a froth of skirts that spills down to Niou's knees. It looks quite expensive, he thinks. "Is that new?"

"Mm," says Niou, voice a little softer than usual. "I saw it today, told my mother I was buying it for a girlfriend. Cute, huh."

"Very."

Niou has done this a few times before, always without much self-consciousness or a trace of embarrassment over it. Yagyuu doesn't mind; Niou's taste in dresses is a bit flashy, perhaps, but that's about his only objection. Maybe Niou wants to be a woman, sometimes, maybe Niou just likes dresses. It doesn't cost Yagyuu anything to treat Niou as a woman while Niou's dressing like one, so he does.

"Take me out somewhere nice," Niou says, grinning.

Niou is a little twitchy, all through dinner. Yagyuu isn't quite sure why; Niou's never nervous when wearing female clothing, so it's not likely to be that. Still, the food is excellent, and the wine gives Yagyuu a pleasant sense of warmth. And Niou is easy to listen to, easy to talk to; the conversation threads around several topics aimlessly and becomes lazy and teasing.

Niou stands up, after Yagyuu settles the bill, and _smirks_. "Bathroom. Join me."

Yagyuu blinks, but Niou's weaving through the tables already. Yagyuu bites his lip; _join_ where? 

To Yagyuu's relief, Niou is in the men's bathroom. To his even greater relief, the bathroom is well-maintained and looks _clean_ , and is thankfully devoid of attendant staff who might object to the way Niou hauls Yagyuu into one of the two cubicles.

"Really," says Yagyuu, flatly. "Here."

"Here." Niou says, and grins, and grabs hold of Yagyuu's hand, sliding it down onto Niou's ass and squeezing so Yagyuu ends up with a fistful of skirt material. "I've a surprise for you."

Niou is wearing stockings, Yagyuu discovers quickly, and he rolls his eyes indulgently.

"Not that," Niou murmurs breathily, both arms wrapped around Yagyuu's neck in distinctly girlish fashion, and Yagyuu slides his hand further upwards. "Nor that," Niou adds, when Yagyuu hits the curve of Niou's ass and finds that Niou is, predictably, wearing underwear that feels silky and feminine to the touch.

Yagyuu finds Niou's 'surprise' a moment later; he knocks his hand into the hard base of the plug, and Niou makes a pleased little noise in response. No wonder Niou's been shifting around so much. He slides his hand into Niou's underwear, and grazes his thumb along the edge of the metal where it meets Niou.

"Nn," says Niou, almost purring. "Take it out."

Yagyuu turns Niou around, so Niou's front is pressed up against the wall, and gently eases the plug out as Niou makes appreciative noises; Niou is left slick and _open_ , and Yagyuu wipes the plug gently before placing it carefully on the cistern behind the bowl.

Yagyuu doesn't think anyone comes into the bathroom while he's fucking Niou, vigorously, against the cold tiles of the cubicle wall. He's not sure he cares; the _possibility_ of being caught is why Niou wants to do it, after all, and if Yagyuu's reward for the risk is a Niou who is sly and smirking and seductive and eager, it's a risk that seems worthwhile enough to him.

\--

Niou's been there a week and three days, and it's falling apart like it always does.

"Sorry," Niou says, and Yagyuu hates this, hates that it's the one thing Niou ever apologises for, that he always apologises and means it. It never _changes_ anything. 

Niou used to joke about Yagyuu's hidden sadistic side, long ago. He doesn't make those jokes any more.

Yagyuu sits up, and wipes his mouth. It's not worth pasting on a reassuring smile. Niou won't be fooled, and it doesn't matter. Yagyuu will still do what it takes, whatever it takes. "What do you need?"

"Ah." Niou looks _ashamed_ , and that's the worst thing of all. "Hands, or… ah, the belt?"

"Which?"

"Belt," Niou says, quietly, his eyes lowered.

Yagyuu reaches off the bed, and finds his discarded trousers. The belt is leather, softened by wear and rather older than he'd bother to keep if it wasn't for Niou. He pulls it free and settles himself back on Niou's legs.

"Up," he says, softly, and Niou obligingly sits up so Yagyuu can use the belt as a sort of collar. Yagyuu slides the end of the belt through the buckle, and pulls it so that it sits reasonably snug around Niou's neck. Niou settles himself back down, his eyes fixed on Yagyuu's hands and his cheeks flushed with more genuine interest than he'd displayed when Yagyuu was trying to suck him off minutes before.

Yagyuu tugs gently on the end of the belt, so that it tightens around Niou's neck, and glances down. Sure enough, Niou's previously flagging erection is perking up again, just at the prospect. Yagyuu wonders, as he sometimes does, if it would be enough just to keep the belt like this, to tease around the edge of constriction.

He dismisses the thought; it would work once, maybe. If that. Sometimes even the belt isn't enough, after all, and he'd rather never repeat the time with the choke-chain.

He tugs a little harder on the belt, and Niou _twitches_ , gratitude visible in every line of his body. Well then.

\--

It's the day before Niou has to leave, and Yagyuu can't bear to look at him naked.

It's the bruises, really. But Niou's neck is mottled yellow and purple, with striations that Yagyuu knows are from the belt, the rope, the collar, his hands. Whatever it takes, to be enough, to push Niou enough. And it's only just enough, he knows.

There are other ways to pique Niou's adrenalin into action, at least, and some of those have the advantage of minimising how much reminder Yagyuu has to have of Niou's bruises. They ride the train in rush-hour one last time, at the busiest time on the busiest line. Niou holds onto the bar above and buries his face in Yagyuu's shoulder as Yagyuu's hands work determinedly at him. Small motions, constrained by the heated sweaty bodies of fellow commuters, but purposeful.

It takes longer than Yagyuu expects, given how _public_ this is, given how noisy Niou's whines and gasps sound to his ears, for Niou to flood Yagyuu's hand with his release. Niou leans hard against Yagyuu, afterwards, his breath harsh and hot on Yagyuu's neck. The train pauses at a major station, and passengers push urgently to exit the carriage; Niou and Yagyuu sway together and then let the press of people force them out onto the platform.

They stumble out amidst the crowds and, for lack of any other plans, head up to the surface. It's busy above ground too, at this time of day; a constant stream of people heading about their daily lives. Niou stays pressed up against Yagyuu's side, and they follow the flow of the crowds for a while.

Yagyuu can't help but notice: alleyways, doorways, fire escapes, stairways. When Niou's around, Yagyuu's hindbrain keeps a tally of little niches and alcoves, even during daylight hours when those places afford no extra privacy at all. He can't help it. It's a balance; too private and they might as well be at home, too public and Yagyuu just _can't_.

He dismisses the tally from his mind. Not now. Not necessary. One more night, that's all they have.

\--

They're at the airport.

Niou's leaving, and it's a more of a relief than a distress, and Yagyuu feels guilty even as he accepts the sense of anticipation at being set free again.

Yagyuu hangs back as Niou queues to check his bag. He winces as Niou adjusts his scarf idly; Niou's neck is scraped and raw-looking beneath, and Yagyuu can't help but think that the scarf is only going to make it worse.

At that, at least the neck is only scraped. Last night Niou had a new request, and Yagyuu had rather lost himself in patterning Niou's chest with trails of tiny pinprick burns. It hadn't quite been enough, on its own, unfortunately, but an experiment worth the effort nevertheless. And the resulting patterns had been almost pretty. For once, Yagyuu isn't repulsed by being able to see what he's done to Niou the day after. Maybe they've finally hit on a kink he can live with.

Yagyuu wonders, as he sometimes does, if Niou needs this with anyone else, if he asks anyone else for these things. Niou never mentions other lovers, and he's never shown up bearing the marks of anyone else's attentions. Maybe there's nobody else. Yagyuu doesn't know, doesn't think he can ask.

Niou checks in without incident; they walk slowly towards the security area.

"You've got my number," Yagyuu says, as he usually does. "Let me know."

"Won't be for a while." Niou says. He glances around. "I'd ask you if you wanted one for the road, but, well--"

"Indeed." It's not impossible to find somewhere appropriate, but harder this side of security, and Yagyuu wrinkles his nose at the memories of their attempts. "Save it for next time."

Niou turns, then, and kisses him. It's a slow, sentimental kiss; Niou's arms wind around him and hold him close. Like every parting kiss they've ever shared, it feels like the very last one.

(It's never the last one.)

If he wasn't sure Niou would come back, maybe he'd miss him more. He almost misses him already, misses Niou's scent and his skin and his mouth and his hands. Misses their conversations, and misses the way Niou smiles at him fondly, and misses how it feels to be utterly understood. Niou has a hook in Yagyuu's soul the way that nobody else does.

But whatever they have, it feels like it can't be sustained. It can only exist as it does, in brief intense moments, short enough that neither the literal nor metaphorical suffocation of their relationship can come to pass.

Niou rests his forehead against Yagyuu's for a moment, his lips curved faintly and his eyes screwed closed.

"Go," Yagyuu says, so softly it's almost a whisper, before Niou can say anything that will make this harder.

Niou opens his eyes, steps back, and nods. "Until next time, then."

Yagyuu watches, then, watches until Niou's receding figure passes through the secure doors and out of sight. Niou doesn't turn, doesn't wave.

Until next time, thinks Yagyuu. _Au revoir._

He just hopes next time won't be too soon.

**Author's Note:**

> (In case I need to indicate my awareness of this; no, some of the above is not safe and is done without sufficient care for the safety of the participants, and Yagyuu is not very good about not kinkshaming Niou when he finds things distasteful.)
> 
> (I'm sorry D1, it was just time I wrote another weird sexually awkward fic about you guys.)


End file.
